"Who exactly is this person?" Inside the main tent, Zach Four decided it was time to get the lay of the land. "Why would someone show up alone and block our door? Is there something they're relying on?"
The man in the black robe immediately reported, "This person's behavior is rather bizarre. Although he defeated both the Fourth Squad and the Sixth Team, he didn't injure anyone—he just made the strongest among the losers pull his cart."
"Pull the cart?" Zach Four had already found that phrase odd, but Rainblade King was all fired up before, so there was no time to ask. Now that Rainblade King had gone to meet the enemy, Zach finally had a moment: "He makes the strongest ones pull his cart? What kind of cart are we talking about?"
"They pull the cart he rides in. This guy doesn't eat, drink, or move—he just lies there in the cart, doing nothing else. He doesn't stop the captives from secretly sending messages, doesn't tell them where to go. He just lies there with his eyes closed, resting. As long as they're heading out of the South Wasteland, that's good enough for him. He doesn't care about the route, whether there's an ambush, or where exactly they're taking him. That's how Captain Qian and the others managed to bring him back to our camp, and that's how we got the intel."
"Seriously?" Hearing this, Zach Four was genuinely puzzled. This kind of wild, go-where-the-wind-takes-you behavior isn't something a regular person would do. Either this guy has the confidence and guts to not care who he runs into, where he goes, or what traps are waiting, or he's just an idiot who got a little power and now thinks he's the king of the world.
Are there really people in the South Wasteland who can ignore everything like that?
I've been in the South Wasteland this long, and I've never heard of anyone like that. Honestly, if someone was that strong, why would they be messing around here? They'd be living it up in the Central Plains. "The Bitter Land" isn't just a catchy phrase, you know.
Are there idiots in the South Wasteland who are that cocky and full of themselves?
I mean, look no further than Rainblade King—he's a prime example!
Speaking of Rainblade King, sure he's arrogant, but he's still one of our top fighters. He promised to chop off someone's head over a warm drink, but with winter here, that drink's about to go cold—and if he doesn't deliver, it's gonna be awkward. If the other guy really does have some unbeatable move and our ace gets hurt, that's bad news.
He honestly didn't care if Rainblade King got hurt—heck, dying here was fine, as long as it happened after Jade Demoness was taken out. If he got a scratch now and used it as an excuse to bail early, all of Zach's investments would go straight down the drain.
So Zach Four glanced to the side and started laying on the flattery: "Master, Rainblade King may be powerful, but he's still young, impulsive, and reckless. In a duel, there's always a chance he'll slip up or make a mistake—it's hard to be at ease. Your reputation is legendary; I grew up hearing stories about you. Young folks don't know their limits, so we need a martial arts legend like you to anchor the team!"
"Hahaha!" Old hands may be old hands, but that bit of flattery still hit the spot for Phantom Shade Master, who's been chased around lately like a stray dog.
The old man, who'd been overshadowed by Rainblade King and felt invisible, suddenly had a moment to shine. He clasped his hands and said, "No, no, I don't deserve such praise from the commander. But since there's an intruder, I'll do my humble part."
With that, Phantom Shade Master stepped out of the main tent.
His words were smooth, but his mind was even sharper. The real goal of this gathering was Jade Demoness, but this sudden enemy was a great chance to show off some muscle. As a veteran, Phantom Shade Master knew that these quirky loners usually had a few tricks up their sleeve. They might not be super strong, but if you weren't careful, you'd trip up in no time.
Since Zach Four said he should "hold the line," that's exactly what he'd do—hold the line, but never actually step in. He'd wait for the hotheaded kid to trip and then spot the guy's weakness. Only then would he strike, take the guy out, and crush that brat's arrogance. And putting the kid in his place would help Zach Four, too. He figured Zach had the same plan.
So, why not go along with it?
Phantom Shade Master quietly slipped on a pair of nearly invisible gloves, laced with deadly poison—his secret weapon for shady dealings. Who cares about a fair fight? Surviving the martial world is what matters; dead men don't get to gloat. No matter how special this guy is, the plan is simple: smear poison on his face, bail out fast, and see how long he lasts. That's how an old hand survives!
He'd just finished putting them on when a huge commotion erupted ahead—shouts of disbelief, the sound of clothes whipping through the air. Clearly, Rainblade King had just taken a major hit.
Good, that's great—now I get to swoop in and save the day!
Just as Phantom Shade Master darted forward like a shadow, the crowd was scrambling backward in a panic. At the same time, an old cart was herding the experts along like ducks, creaking as it rolled straight toward them. Phantom Shade Master was fast, but so was the cart—they met head-on in the middle of camp.
When he saw that old cart, Phantom Shade Master—who'd just been feeling confident—slammed on the brakes and stopped dead in his tracks. Staring at the cart, his eyes nearly popped out, and his jaw dropped, totally forgetting his usual senior swagger.
He'd expected Rainblade King to take a hit, but he never thought the kid couldn't last even a moment—or that a top-ranked master would end up under a cart!
That's right—under that rickety, squeaky old cart, Rainblade King was crawling on all fours, dragging it along! His hair was a mess, his face hidden, and all you could hear was his heavy, angry breathing. Clearly, the humiliation was about to make this proud kid explode.
But what terrified Phantom Shade Master was that no matter how furious Rainblade King got, he just kept crawling and pulling the cart, dragging a trail through the yellow sand.
What the heck is going on here?!
No way, no way—this isn't some unbeatable technique, it's gotta be sorcery!
On the cart, a young man radiating mystery was fiddling with Nature's Crystal. Sensing Phantom Shade Master's stare, he slowly looked up. Their eyes met, and Phantom Shade Master shivered. He didn't know what he was afraid of, but he couldn't stop himself from trembling all over.
Old hands really are old hands—Phantom Shade Master didn't waste a word. He spun around and bolted, his lightfoot technique maxed out, splitting into seven or eight ghostly images as he fled in every direction.
"Quick-witted, great lightfoot technique, tough as ever." The man on the cart smiled warmly and even paid Phantom Shade Master a compliment. He lazily raised his hand, holding a grain of sand between his fingers. "Perfect for pulling the cart."